A Sad Few Weeks

Trouble...trials...hardships...Whatever you call them, we've had our fair share over the past couple of months.  Seems that these bumps in the road come to us in clusters.  I suppose that when I got the call that my Great Grandfather was dying, it was expected.  He hadn't been in very good health in quite a while, so I wasn't very surprised when the news came.  This isn't to say that I wasn't very sad.  I truly love that man.  He was tall...a sky scraper of a man, to me.  I was always a little runt of a kid and it seemed he could touch the moon, if he wanted.  And funny...man, he was funny.  He always did this crazy smile with his big ole set of horse teeth (all his own, mind you, in his upper 90's).  It was meant to be hilarious and silly, and it was.  He was a man who was proud of his heritage.  Proud of the Native American blood that we shared.  He worked hard for a living and always took care of everything he owned.  I guess these things made it hard for me to see him, in the end.  He nearly died once before, years ago.  I remember walking in to his hospital room and seeing that great big man...that sweet, tall, giant of a man, curled up in the fetal position like a tiny, fragile baby.  My heart broke right into.  I remember nothing more than the tubes running out of his back, draining the bloody fluid from his lungs.  I left and cried in the hallway of the hospital.  I hate death, that way.  I thought for sure he would die then, so when he recovered, of course I was happy.  But this time, I couldn't go through it, again.  Selfish me, I couldn't go see him this time.  I couldn't see my strong Papa curled up, sick, tired, and ready for home.  I just stayed away and remembered him the way I wanted.

Second death was much less expected and I still haven't looked it in the eye.  I was doing something around the house when my husband walked back in from work, ten minutes after he'd left!  He gave me his phone to use for the day (I had lost mine, for the millionth time) and said that my Mom called to tell me that my Aunt was found unconscious at her home and it didn't look good.  "What?!" I said, cried, the word...I felt the tears coming.  What did he mean?  He meant it didn't look good.  And it didn't.  My Aunt was pronounced dead about 20 minutes later.  Gone.  Selfish me.  I told her I'd mail her those photos of Ty...I promised I'd send them to her and the only thing I did was forward her a photo of him on her phone.  I didn't want to mail the real pictures in just any envelope.  I wanted to buy the kind that wouldn't bend them up in the mail.  I didn't get around to it and she never got her pictures.  She must've thought I had forgotten her...as if my life was so busy I didn't have time to mail a couple of photographs.  My heart broke in half...again.  Not only the photo thing, but Saturday night (before she passed on Tuesday), my husband and myself were invited to dinner at my Grandma's house.  We didn't go.  We opted to go on our anniversary date and send Ty with my parents to my Grandma's...My aunt was there.  I should've been there...

My Aunt was a talker.  Ask anyone who knew her and they'd tell you that.  My Dad can talk the "horns off a billy goat", but Vickie could out talk him any day.  She was kind, but straight.  I remember that we always called her Sergeant Carter, because she would make us walk the line.  She was always, always, always smiling.  She looked just like my Dad, for the world.  They could've been twins.  She knew Jesus and she shared his love with everyone she met.  She had a way of letting her kindness rub of on others and I'll never forget that.  What an inspiration.

We can't change it.  We can't go back.  Death is hard.  It gets more frequent as we grow up.  It hurts.  It breaks us down, but it also teaches us.  I know where my Grandfather is...I know where my Aunt is.  They are rejoicing and praising the Son.  I am so happy to have that assurance.  I miss them.  I love them, but I am comforted.  Death teaches us to enjoy the time we have.  Enjoy the people we love.  Minister to others.  Give our time, effort, talent, money...It won't last!

"The fear of death follows from the fear of life.  A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time."
-Mark Twain